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#but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do y’know
bluelockmaniac · 2 days
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— ୨ৎ "TEDDY TITTY BEAR"
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★ ft. toji x fem!reader 彡 wc: 0.6k
▯ notes. 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲. fluff. slightly suggestive ending !
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“my cute titty bear is back!” you yell excitedly, rushing towards toji and throwing your arms around his large body as he enters through the front door of your apartment. a cheeky smile etched its way across your face— one that he was all too familiar with.
he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he tries to pry you off him, amused. “your what?”
he's been through this before; it was not the first time you've appeared before him with nonsense leaving your pretty, impulsive mouth. yet, perhaps it was your peculiarities that he secretly found endearing.
“what do you mean, my what?” you ask, tipping your head to the side with innocent, wide eyes, peering up at him through your fluttering eyelashes. you repeat your words, that teasing grin of yours still stubbornly refusing to abandon your lips. “i said, you're my cute titty bear.”
“what the fuck is a titty bear?” he shakes his head in amusement as his hand absentmindedly moves behind his head to scratch his thick nape. “look, princess,” he continues, “i know this is one of y’weird outburst episodes, but seriously, you gotta stop—”
“nuh-uh, i’m not repeating this again,” you huff, feistily grabbing his huge hand and dragging him to the living room. 
this time, you were taking the lead and he was letting you. he was just slightly intrigued. what were you planning on getting yourself into now? there was no harm in entertaining your shenanigans just this once, he thought.
he follows you with a grin playing at his lips, then sprawls comfortably on the couch with his legs spread.
you smirk, quickly settling yourself warmly on his lap, legs straddling his waist as you assertively slam your palms against the backrest of the couch, one hand beside each of his shoulders, caging him in with your arms.
“oh?” he raises his brow, staring at your sly expression nonchalantly as one muscular arm encircles your waist, his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “don’t act so smug, princess. i still need an explanation, y’know?”
you hum softly, then, without warning, slide your hands up his chest, guiding them to either of his breasts and shamelessly squeezing them simultaneously.
“look.” squeeze. “at.” squeeze. “them!” squeeze. 
he flinches, inhaling sharply out of surprise as his mouth falls agape at your brazen stunt. sure, you’re undeniably crazy, and confident, but to boldly squish his chest with that mischievous grin dancing unashamedly on your lips? he had clearly underestimated you.
“girl,” his fingers gently gripping the soft flesh of your hips, his eyes wordlessly demanding answers. when you only giggle in response, he moves his hand to grip your chin, thumb dragging along your plump lips. “you’re insufferable.”
your eyes crinkle devilishly, “but you love me?”
“ya know it.” he grumbles, his voice soft as he holds your head and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to the corners of your lips.
“then can you take off your shirt pl—”
“no.”
“i need to see your—”
“no. perv.”
“but i wanna bite—”
he groans, his patience wearing thin, and without another word he silences you with a rough kiss on the lips, which predictably worked like a charm. “you’re crazier than me, y’know?”
you nod your head in response as pink creeps up your cheeks, “and you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”
“i wouldn’t.” the two of you silently stare at each other for a few seconds. it was a comfortable silence— almost as if you both were falling in love for the first time again. almost.
“alright, enough,” he yawns loudly, interrupting the silence, the romantic atmosphere abruptly fading away. he stands up and throws you over his broad shoulder effortlessly, earning a squeaky gasp from you. “time to show this stuck-up princess what this titty bear can do, ‘kay?”
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𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:
"h-hey, toji, calm your tits!"
"nah princess, you asked for this first."
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© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !
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yunqitv · 9 hours
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THE BOY IS MINE PT 1 _ ENHYPEN _ JAKE
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💜 GENRE : COLLEGE STUDENTS, FRIENDS TO LOVERS, CHEATING, BULLYING
💜 PAIRING: college!student!jake x college!student!male reader
inspired by "why r u? kr. ver"
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“My M/n!” M/n perked up from his notebook at the sudden coo of his name being called out. He was sitting in the quad on campus, textbook and stationary sprawled out on the table as he set them where he wanted since he was by himself, well, not anymore.
A dark-haired male came jogging towards him, bag on his shoulder bouncing just like his hair in rhythm of steps. M/n sighed, snatching the reading glasses from his face. “Can you be any louder, Jake?” He grumbled.
“My M/n~” Jake repeated, throwing his bag on the table on top of M/n’s stuff carelessly as he wrapped his arms around M/n’s neck from behind, lifting the latter’s face as he gave him an unconditional amount of forehead kisses.
“Ugh, Jake! Gross, you fucking dog,” M/n whined, referring to Jake’s justifiable nickname, Golden Retriever.
Jake giggled, completely unfazed by M/n’s slaps and kicks as he pulled away and sat uncomfortably close to M/n on the bench. “What are you doing?”
“I was preparing for mid-terms, but I just got assaulted by a puppy and now I want to go home.” M/n huffed, gathering his stuff together. Jake reached out to M/n’s hands, taking them just for a second but M/n took them away, giving him a grim look.
Jake’s big smile stuck on his face even after rejection, “Should we go to a party?”
“Why?”
“‘Cause, I wanna drink with my favorite best friend!” Jake screeched, a little too happy to announce his title. M/n rolled his eyes, resuming his packing.
“You won’t be asking if you weren’t already planning. Who’s party?”
“May’s birthday gathering at the pub. She misses you, y’know.”
Oh, right. May. Jake’s girlfriend of two, almost three years now. You would almost forget all about her when just the two M/n and Jake were together.
M/n shuttered. “You’re not asking me to go to her birthday party with you, you’re asking me to be her gift because you forgot, right?”
Jake pouted but lowered his head and nodded, “I’ve been so busy with these sets for the theatre department, that I completely forgot to make her something.” M/n almost felt bad when Jake returned to his chipper self, “But once she sees you, no one else’s gifts will matter. So, you gotta come!”
Going to this party was M/n’s first mistake. Just a group of maybe twelve students from the university all drinking shots like a fish drinking water, causally sipping after every sentence. About a third of them were probably already tipsy by now and it was only the first thirty minutes.
M/n sat at the end of the table, sipping his beer as his eyes darted between Jake and May, who sat chatting about, close. M/n knew it was wrong not to feel a difference, but why does Jake hold May the same way he does him?
Jake was a weird kid. He’s nice to everyone and touch is his love language, but there should be no reason his touch is the same as his touch with May. That’s his girlfriend. Right?
“Hey, hey, let’s draw chopsticks, yeah? Whoever gets this red-marked one has to do something.” One of the partygoers suggested, and the table erupted in cheers.
“Ah, well how about the birthday girl chooses the dare,” Another said, pointing at May whose face is flushed red.
“Oh, well, um. I guess, I found Jake during one of these parties, right? Let’s keep the love in the air!” The table all coos, in unison. Except for M/n who’s face goes flat at the mention of the couple.
“So, how about whoever gets the stick has to kiss, um… hmm, M/n!”
M/n coughed, hand covering over his mouth. “W-What why me?”
“Well, aren’t you single? You stick around Jake so much, I hardly get to see him!” M/n chuckled, refraining with all his might not to roll his eyes.
Jake’s face dropped to a concerned one as he put a hand on May’s shoulder “Hey, maybe pick someone else. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, May.”
“I’ll do it,” M/n said, downing the rest of his drink. “Draw the sticks, maybe I’ll get a girlfriend today.”
M/n was being sarcastic, Jake knew this but couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t been. Because Jake didn’t want to see anyone even touch M/n in any kind of way. 
Everyone put their chopstick in a glass as M/n waited anxiously to see just who was going to meet him at his demise tonight. May swivel the chopsticks around for a few seconds before everyone reached for one without looking at the bottom.
“Okay, okay, everyone look now!” May shouted in excitement.
Everyone looked at their chopstick, then at the person next to them.
“Oh my God, Jake has it!”
The table ran silent as everyone looked at the three awkwardly. Then someone broke the silence.
“Well, it’s that bad, right? It’s just a little boy’s love kiss? Nothing real, right May?”
May’s face showed it all, she was not amused anymore.
“U-Uh, never mind we don’t have to-” Suddenly, Jake rose from his seat and shuffled towards M/n, the table ooing. Jake stopped behind M/n’s chair, placing his hand under his chin he lifted his head like he did earlier and leaned forward on the tips of his feet, “Should we kiss?” He whispered.
M/n looked up as far as he could, Jake’s smiling.
“Wah, look at Jake. He doesn’t want anyone to kiss M/n but himself!” Someone squealed. The tension is cut thin as the slam of May’s hand on the table snapped everyone’s heads in her direction.
“I-I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be back. Jake, come with, please.”
The next few days at the university were different. Jake was no longer interrupting M/n's study sessions in the quad, instead just walking past as if they didn't know each other.
May believed something was going on between the two. If it wasn’t for the jabs she took at the pub, it was the drink she threw at him while he was walking to class.His books and papers dropped down to the ground, dowsed in her drink at his feet.
“I heard boyfriend stealers like to get wet. Thought I’d help you get started.” May spat. M/n hung his head low, not looking up because he knew if he looked into May’s eyes he was either going to break down crying and apologize or wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze so hard that she just might take her words back.
Either way, it didn’t matter because as quickly as a dog comes at a whistle, Jake Sim was standing in front of M/n with a paper towel, blotting his face.
“Hey, HEY” Jake shouted, smacking M/n’s face lightly as he tried to get his attention. M/n didn’t even notice it, but he was hyperventilating as tears dripped down his face like lava erupting from a volcano.
M/n didn’t remember what happened after that, somehow though, he ended up in Jake’s bedroom lying like a corpse in a casket with his hands folded on his chest. All he could do was look up at the ceiling as he recounted all the times he should’ve avoided causing problems with May. Starting with meeting Jake altogether.
Jake was leaning against the wall on his bed as well, legs crossed. “Knowing you, you’re probably thinking about how you could’ve changed all of this. You stupid Psych majors, always thinking and shit.”
Jake sighed, “But it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“But… Do you think it’s a crime to fall in love with your best friend?”
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infernal-heart · 1 year
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describe the most Level 10 Dyke Event you've ever survived
you might be surprised to hear I have been privy to very few dyke events, level 10 or otherwise.
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octoooo · 5 months
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HDJXJD FINISHED SAILOR MOON
It feels so weird that it’s over like,,,
I started it this summer, just some months ago and now it’s,,over?
Not entirely though since I still have a few movies to watch, then ill read the manga THEN I’ll watch Crystal & Eternal & Cosmos <3
SAILOR MOON AINR OVER JUST YET! IVE SUBK MY TEETH IN & IM NOT LETTING GO
Okay first off;
I love you Outer Guardians
I love you gay couples (Kunzite & Zoisite, Haruka & Michiru, Siren & Crow (see tags))
I love you gnc icons (Haruka, Sailor Starlights)
I love you Seiya
I love you Nezu (Iron Mouse)
I love you, Enemies (Dark Kingdom, Black Moon Clan, & Amazon Trio)
I love you, silly minions the Main villains would create
GHFUCNSM
Ofc it ends happily with everyone alive & well (after they all died but shhh Sailor Moon fixed it by seeing & reaching out to the Good left in Galaxia <3)
I’ve also become addicted to the intro (Japanese & English translation AND the American ver. theme song that played back when this show actually aired)
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rafeysdoll · 12 days
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rafe picking you up from a night out with your friends after you’ve had a bit too much to drink
ohhhh this is so so rafe coded hehe thank u for requesting i hope u like it <3 there is dad calling!! there is a also slight size difference mentioned here i think? i made reader more tipsy than drunk since it does get a bit heated towards the end lol but rafe still calls it “drunk”
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you whimper, rafe walking you outside the bar after you said your goodbyes, practically tripping over your pink platforms. “rafey, slow down!” you cry, the taste of the fruity beverage that got you tipsy still lingering in your mouth.
“want you to carry me,” you hiccup, looking up at him with a faux pout. “my feet hurt.”
“w-well maybe they wouldn’t hurt if.. if you didn’t wear like 10 inch heels,” he exaggerates, still opening his arms for you despite his words. “mm, yeahh but these look so cute!” you giggle, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck and ignoring his ‘annoyance’
“want you to carry me bridal style, daddy. cause.. cause im gonna be your bride one day, right?” you mumble, batting your eyelashes. “gonna give me a baby and.. and a ring and we’ll live.. happily ever after,” you continue softly, heart on your sleeve — so casually talking about your dream.
“course i will doll, in due time.” he promises, slowly lifting you up with no struggle, his handling making your core heat up— one arm underneath your knees and the other on your back. “daddy,” you mewl, heavy shoes dangling. “‘m horny,” you sigh, no shame at how you crave him.
he shakes his head with a small laugh, “you horny baby? what did it for you huh? thinking about the future? being a wife and getting knocked up?”
you whine, nodding. “mhm, you know that’s what i want. wanna be your house wife.. want to have your babies,” you agree, lips formed into a frown. “wanna be full, want you to fuck me.”
“yea, well dad can’t do that right now.. gotta be patient. you’re drunk,” he states in his common, ‘know it all’ tone. “mhm.. mhm.. but i don’t careee, just.. just wanna have sex!” you cry a little louder, rafe’s big hand quickly covering your mouth, glittery lip gloss definitely smeared now.
“shhh, shh. not even in the truck yet and you wanna be talking dirty real loud like that— people.. people can.. hear you, y’know? be quiet.”
a muffled version of “i’m sorry,” leaves your lips, eyes filling with tears.
when he reaches the truck and sits you down, putting your seat belt on before starting to drive back to tannyhill you almost immediately start your whining all over again. “pay attention to me! ‘m right here you know!” you bite, stomping your foot against the car floor, clawing at his bicep.
“hey.. hey, watch it. know you’re drunk but cool it alright? i’m driving, you gotta sober up.” he warns, squeezing your thigh firmly.
you sniffle, grabbing his hand and leading it closer to your heat. “just.. rub a little please? and ‘m tipsy, not drunk!” you protest, laying your head on his arm. “i..i missed you, all the girls were getting upset cause i wouldn’t shut up about you.”
he smirks, that doing it for him and his ego— already feeling himself loosen up as he sneaks his hand in your skirt, rubbing lightly. almost like a reward for depending on him. “that right? can’t stop thinking about rafey even when you’re at girls night?” he mocks. “can’t stop thinking about dick?”
you nod, quickly relaxing against his fingers. “yeah, that’s what i thought. you gonna stay quiet? gonna listen now?”
“mhm.. mhm. course,” you hum, the rest of the car ride spent with rafe driving with one hand as you grind against his other.
thanks to the lovely @oceandriveab and @rafecameroninterlude for proofreading <3
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upsidedownwithsteve · 3 months
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.4K] request from anon: what about Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before? 
“Sloppy?” Steve grimaced, smiling through your word choice despite the disappointment he felt for you. 
You shrugged, nose crinkled as you remembered. “Yeah. Wet, y’know? And not like— it was just too much…tongue.”
There was a silence, a sad kind that filled the room. Steve wasn’t sure what to say. You kind of regretted telling the boy. So you sighed and shrugged it off again, biting the head off of red Sour Patch Kid.
“Maybe I just don’t like making out,” you sounded defeated and Steve hated it, frowning as he watched you chew your candy mournfully, your back pressed to the side of his unmade bed. “That’s normal, right? Like, some people just don’t like things like that and—”
“Hey, hey,” Steve knocked his foot against yours, legs stretched out across his bedroom floor. The pack of playing cards had been abandoned beside some unopened twizzlers and Steve’s can of cherry soda. “Look, of course that’s normal. And— and if that’s how you feel, that’s totally okay, alright?”
The boy hesitated, worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if he should keep talking. You watched him, brows raised expectantly. 
“I just think—” Steve cleared his throat, his pointer finger dragging patterned across his carpet. He shrugged, all faux nonchalance. He didn’t want to sound like a creep, not to his best friend. Not to you. “I just think that maybe you’ve not had a good kiss, y’know?”
You didn’t answer, not right away. And Steve didn’t try and backtrack, or explain himself, he just waited, watching you think. His bedroom window was open, the sounds of the early evening slipping through. Someone’s backyard pool filter, their sprinklers out the front, the quiet spin of a kids bike going down the sidewalk.  
You didn’t look at Steve when you finally asked, “well, what is a good kiss?”
You felt stupid, asking such a thing at your age but maybe you’d grown up picking all the wrong kinds of guys. Impatient boys, greedy boys, selfish boys. Boys who turned into men who didn’t have the time of day to take it slow with a girl like you. Boys who thought they were men, who used too much teeth and tongue and pressure and tasted like cheap party beer and the leftover smoke of their cigarette. 
Guys who got too handsy too quick, guys who didn’t care that when they pulled away from your lips, you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and tried not to frown. 
Steve shifted a little, cheeks turning pink as his eyes found yours. “Well,” he gestured at you, awkward. His gaze settled on your lips before he blinked and looked away. “I mean, it helps when you really like the person, y’know? The uh, the chemistry of it all.”
You swallowed, throat feeling tight, chest feeling too warm. You remember Nancy talking about those kinds of feelings when she first kissed Jonathan, a dopey, soft smile on her lips as she recounted it, telling you of the buzz under her skin, the flips that her stomach did when he leaned in to meet her, eyes closing. 
“Sure,” you agreed. You don’t think you’d ever felt that way about the boys you had kissed. “Right.”  
“But I guess you’re supposed to take your time with it? I mean, at first, when you’re getting to know someone.” Steve smiled, soft, reassuring. His knee knocked yours. “You find out what they like.”
“What they like?” You asked, voice cracking a little. You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands. You picked up a green sour patch and bit its leg. “What does that mean?”
Steve looked bashful, miles apart from the boy you’d know in high school, with a girl on his arm in the hallways, a different one in his lap at a party that weekend. 
“I’d, uh, I mean— person A would go slow with person B, right? They’d start soft. Gentle, I guess? You gotta— they’d have to figure out how the other person likes to be kissed. Not everyone shoves their tongue down your throat, y’know.”
You huffed out a laugh but it sounded weak, too breathy. You wanted the boy to keep talking, you wanted to watch his pink cheeks and his pretty eyes dart across your face, like he was searching for something. 
You wondered if he’d find it. 
“Not everyone?” You whispered. 
“No,” Steve shook his head, his smile wry. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he was closer now, closer than before and you could smell his cologne, the cherry soda fizz that hung in the air along with Mr Jackson’s freshly mown grass. “No, no, not everyone. I’d give the girl a peck at first, yeah? Just something PG-13. Then, when she relaxes and you know, she moves closer, kisses me back, I’d—”
Steve broke off, blinking like he was getting rid of something hazy. He’d been looking at you as he spoke, words coming too easy, the air between you both warm despite the setting sun. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous, awkward again, a bashful thing that made him suddenly even more endearing than you thought he ever could be. 
“You’d what, Steve?” You blinked, feeling warm, wondering if the boy could tell. You didn’t know what to do so you moved, leaning forward until you could fold your legs underneath yourself and your thigh bumped Steve’s shin. “You’d what?”
Steve’s eyes searched yours, his gaze falling to your lips and back again. You thought he found it then, that thing he seemed to be looking for. Because he cleared his throat and let one hand fall to the carpet between you, his fingers brushing over your socked toes and you almost jumped at the contact. 
The silence was too loud now. 
“I could show you, if you wanted.”
Someone’s lawn mower started up a few yards over, white noise buzzing in the distance as you tried to take in what Steve had just said. He was watching you, head tilted to the side, cheeks still rosy and when you looked at him carefully, you could see the barely concealed panic in his brown eyes. 
He pressed his lips together and tried to smile, tight and nervous and he was picking at the carpet, fingers fidgeting as you sat there dumbly. You heard the shake in his voice when he tried to say, “I am—,” he choked on his words, panicked. “—so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Steve,” you stopped the boy with a hand on his shin, your warm palm against the denim. “We’re friends, right?”
The word seemed to burn on your tongue, like it tasted like a lie, like it was as dangerous as one. You waited, breath held, wondering if you wanted Steve to agree or not. 
“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly so serious. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course we are.” He worried at his bottom lip again, looking at your own. “Best friends.”
You nodded, tongue feeling too big for your mouth to speak. Words felt clumsy, your skin too warm. Buzzing. Fizzing. You weren’t sure if it was you or the air. 
“Show me.”
You thought Steve would maybe hesitate, maybe he’d back out or shout, ‘got you!’ like those prank shows Dustin liked to watch. You thought he’d maybe lay down some rules, maybe he’d tell you how this didn’t mean anything and really, he was only doing his sad friend a favour. 
He didn’t do any of that. In fact he didn’t say anything else at all. Steve just let out a breath and nodded once, almost to himself before he let his hand curl around the back of your calf and he tugged, gentle. 
He lifted his chin, a casual ‘c’mere’ that had your heart thundering and you wondered if this confidence, this way of acting so sure of himself, was how he got all the girls. 
A quiet sort of assertiveness that made your stomach flip inside out. 
You unfurled yourself from your sitting position, shuffling to your knees as you moved across Steve’s bedroom floor, bare shins burning against the carpet. You leaned back on your heels, brought yourself down to Steve’s level where he sat against his wall, legs stretched out before him. 
He didn’t warn you when he brought his hand to your face, fingers cupping your cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth and you were suddenly left wondering when Steve’s hands had gotten so big. You’d watched him grow, from a middle school kid to king Steve the senior. You’d seen the new muscles, the height, the hair. You’d never noticed his hands before but now they were on you, it’s all you could think about.
Dizzy. You felt dizzy. 
“Okay?” Was all he asked, voice softer and quieter now he was so much closer. 
You nodded, face too warm and licking across your bottom lip like a reflex. You weren’t sure where to look. Or where to put your hands. Most kisses you’d shared had happened in the crowds at parties or in the front seat of a boy’s car after a date. You usually lay your palms on their shoulders, holding on and wondering if every boy took these opportunities to grope your ass like a pile of dough. 
“We can stop,” Steve told you. He looked nervous and if anything, it made you feel more anxious than ever. “Whenever you want, ‘kay?” 
You nodded again, unable to really speak, too scared that your voice would crack or something equally stupid would happen. And maybe Steve knew this, maybe he knew you so much better than you ever thought he would, because he smiled and nodded too. 
“Okay,” he announced, quiet and soft and he was moving closer, noses bumping, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here goes.”
“Wait.”
Steve paused, gaze back on your own and he looked concerned, he looked worried and before he could ask you what was wrong you were sucking in a panicked breath and asking: “what if I’m the bad kisser?”
“What?” Steve let out a laugh, breathy and disbelieving and he was still so close, his hand on your jaw and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the apple of your cheek. He was shaking his head, smiling, looking too pretty and suddenly this seemed like a monumental thing, something gargantuan. “No, there’s no way.”
You squirmed on the floor, shifting further and then closer and Steve loosened his hold on you but you didn’t go anywhere. You just blinked at him, pained with worry. “How could you know?”
Steve paused as he thought and you wondered if he had an answer, if he was going to say something truthful or he was simply thinking of something sweet to say to placate you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and seemed to search for that… thing, again. 
I— I just—” Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t give you an explanation or a reason. 
He simply pressed his lips to yours. 
It was chaste and sweet and entirely innocent, lips closed and nothing close to scandalous. But then he parted from you just a breath, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes, watching you from beneath his lashes. And when you didn’t move, you didn’t panic, Steve leaned in again, kissing you the same way until he nudged your chin up with his hand and his lips slotted between your own. 
He moved slowly, carefully, with a practised ease that made your toes curl and it was still sweet, it made your tummy warm and your head spin and Steve’s lips were soft, tasting like cherry soda and sugar. 
You caught up after a beat or two, your hand that wasn’t braced on the floor reaching up to cling to where you could reach. Your fingers found the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, fisting the soft material and doing everything to make sure he didn’t move away. You moved with him, lips meeting and parting over and over until Steve sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the other side, pressing closer, a little deeper. 
After another soft peck, he pulled away, eyes still closed and his thumb on your chin as he whispered, voice hoarse. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressed his fingers under your jaw. “And now, a guy should be testing the waters, right?”
“They should?” You whispered back. Your eyes were still closed too, your fingers sneaking up past Steve’s collar to stroke at the skin at the base of his throat, experimental, adventurous. “How’d they do that?”
You were sure you felt the boy smile, sensed it. A warm breath across your lips as he moved closer again. “Like this—” 
Another kiss, the same as before, once, twice and then Steve was parting his mouth over your own and letting the tip of his tongue lick over your bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, a zap, a buzz, a tingle down your spine and you gasped without thinking about it, lips parting for the boy and you followed suit, tongue moving past Steve’s lips to meet his own. 
He groaned then, a vibration against you, his hand skating back from your cheek to thread into your hair and he let his tongue move over your own, lips clicking every time they parted. It was slower than you’d been kissed before, something sensual about it despite being sat on your best friend’s bedroom floor and it made your insides somersault, the skin where Steve slouched burning. 
“Told you,” he murmured, breath heavy as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, face blazing with heat, Steve was looking at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 
“Mhmm,” you agreed, barely listening, eyes still on the boy’s mouth, fingering the collar of his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “You must be a good teacher, or something.”
Steve looked distracted, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze on your lips too. You weren’t sure he had stopped looking at them. “Yeah, yeah. Or something.” He swallowed, throat tight. “Do you wanna stop? Or—?”
“No,” you said, maybe too quickly. “Do you?”
“God, no,” Steve agreed just as fast. “You can keep going— just— what do you want…?”
Steve’s words died on his lips as you moved suddenly, rising to your knees only to push Steve back to the wall. His hands fell to his sides, hovering in mid air as he stared, watching as you swung a leg over his knees and sat carefully on his lap. You were cautious, more on his thighs that closer to anything else but you tried to breathe evenly as you took in the position. 
“Okay?” You asked him, voice caught sticky in your throat with nerves but Steve nodded, head bobbing hurriedly. You sucked in a breath, smoothing your hands over Steve’s shoulders before you did as he had, smoothing them up the sides of his neck and holding his jaw carefully. “What do I do now?”
‘Whatever you want,’ Steve wanted to beg. But apparently this was a lesson of sorts and he  had something to teach you. So he cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and held your hips, hands gentle and polite. “You, uh, you find out what I like.”
You nails scratched at the back of his neck, unconsciously. You licked your lips. “How do I do that?”
Steve’s hands flexed on your hips, climbing to your waist, holding you a little tighter. Something seemed to shift then, his eyes lighting up. He looked like he was ready to fight, like you’d asked him if he were up for a challenge. It made you grin. 
“Kiss me.”
 So you did. 
You did as Steve had at the start, kissing him soft and slow and chaste, pulling away before he could catch you, teasing, nose bumping his and breaths mixing, cherry soda to fizzy candy. And just before Steve was about to groan, frustrated, you shifted closer, chest pressed to his and you parted your lips, catching his bottom lip between your own. 
It was a greedier kiss and Steve let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk, opening his mouth for you, nails digging into your sides when you licked over his tongue, exploratory, gentle. You felt him nod, the tip of his nose smushed to your cheek and you smiled, amused at his praise. 
“Like that?” You asked, breathless, barley parting from him to speak. 
“Yeah, like that,” Steve agreed, sounding just as wrecked. “Keep going, please.”
He didn’t have to ask again. Fuck, he didn’t even have to ask as nicely as he did because you were back on him in a heartbeat, kissing your best friend like you didn’t want him to remember anyone else. 
“Slower,” he whispered, muttering instructions against your mouth and you didn’t feel scolded, you didn’t feel embarrassed you just followed Steve’s instructions, pulling back slightly to kiss him softer, lips moving with his slower, slower, slower. 
You heard him groan, felt his chest rumble and his hands squeeze at you in silent praise and you knew then he liked it like that, liked to be teased. You nosed at his cheek, did as he had done and pushed your thumb under his jaw to bring his mouth up to yours, his head tipping back, back, back. You pecked over his cheeks then, over the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his lips until he was panting, waiting for you. 
“Yeah?” Was all you asked. 
“Yeah,” he hummed, feeling like he was vibrating. He let his eyes shutter closed, waiting for your next touch. “Yeah.”
You felt bolder, brazen, pushing your lips back to Steve’s and when you pulled away this time, you nipped at the boy’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently with your teeth and until it popped softly back into place and Steve swore, he cursed, he grunted and his hips shifted under yours. 
“You like that,” you noted with a smile and it wasn’t a question. 
Steve didn’t speak, he couldn’t. Instead he stared up at you and nodded, dazed, throat bobbing as he swallowed tightly and tried to get himself under control. 
You moved into each other again without discussion, an unconscious need that didn’t need a conversation. Your hands went to his hair, holding onto the messy ends at the nape of his neck as his travelled the expanse of your back, fingertips lifting the hem of your shirt every downstroke, his skin on yours. It was enough for you to make soft noises against him, nudging closer and Steve helped, his hands pulling at your waist until your chest pressed against his and were seated over his crotch. 
You felt him then, hard and pressed underneath his jeans and it made you kiss him like you had something to prove, mouths moving together, open and panting, tongues touching teasingly, teeth grazing against lips to try and make the other moan louder. 
And when Steve’s garage door opened, a groaning, grating sound below his window, it was an interruption that told you both his father had arrived home. 
You slid from his lap, chest heaving and eyes heavy on Steve’s pink cheeks. His lips were shiny from your work, his hands leaving your waist at the very last second, your butt hitting his carpet rather ungracefully as you backed away, suddenly so aware of the line that had been crossed. 
You were burning still, an ache between your legs that hadn’t quite been satisfied and your lips buzzed from Steve’s kisses, the slow, careful way he’d pressed his to your own. He’d paid attention, you realised, picked up on every noise you made, every shift against him, the way you kissed him back eagerly when he did something you liked. And you’d done the same, taking in his gasps and sighs, stomach flipping when his hips bucked and his chest moved a little quicker than before. 
Your fingers touched your bottom lip before you pressed the back of your hand to it, as if to hide the evidence. Steve was still staring at you, panting, doing nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans. 
And when his front door opened and closed and you could hear his fathers footsteps lead into his office, Steve stayed quiet. Only when the sound of the door clicking shut filled the silent house did he smile, boyish and all charm.
“See?” He reminded you, cheeks still burning. His hair was a mess from where you’d pulled on it. He looked rumpled, undone at the seams. “Told you, you weren’t a bad kisser.”
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steddielations · 5 months
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Eddie’s queer awakening Part 2 | Part 1
Steve doesn’t know what else to do to make Eddie realize he likes him. Never in his life has he had to work this hard at winning someone over. Never.
Even with Nancy in high school, there was always a hint that she wanted him to chase her, which made it worthwhile. Sometimes, Eddie will do something that makes Steve sure he feels the same, flirting back. Then Eddie will do something that makes Steve not so sure, laughing it off.
Steve doesn’t like resorting to bullshit queer stereotypes because he doesn’t exactly fit them either, but Eddie looks like those rugged guys on his posters and album covers. Sometimes it feels like a masculinity performance worthy of King Steve, but sometimes it feels genuine.
Eddie’s not dressing like Bowie, but he prances around on cafeteria tables yelling about sodomy and he’s never had a girlfriend that Steve knows of. He could like both, same as Steve, of course. Or it could be nothing, of course. Steve’s just putting all these moves on a straight boy, about to get his heart broken again.
Robin’s given him countless pep talks, assuring him that he’s right about Eddie when he starts to doubt it. “You sniffed Vickie out just from her VHS returns. If anyone has a functional queer detector here, it’s you. Trust it.”
“What if I ask him out and he rejects me?” Steve fully understands Robin’s worries now, it’s not the same as getting shot down by a girl. “I’ve got enough rumors about me already.” They all wanted to say it in high school, calling Steve a pretty boy in tight pants that spent too much time in the mirror.
Tommy used to shoot them all down. Now he’s not by Steve’s side, snarling at anyone who suggests it. Which was mostly just Tommy trying to convince himself that everything they did under the covers at sleepovers was “just guy stuff”, and he convinced Steve too. To the point where Steve hadn’t even considered any different until a few months ago when he told Robin and— yeah, that was an eventful conversation. The first time he stumbled across the word bisexual— from a Bowie interview in one of Robin’s magazines— it felt like something clicked into place.
“I don’t think Eddie’s the type to out anyone, either way.” Robin’s right. She’s not always right, everything would be easier if she was, but she’s right about that.
“I keep having to pretend to like his shitty weed to get him to come over. Not even the yawn and stretch move worked on him. Y’know, this,” Steve demonstrates, stretching an arm above his head and then draping it over Robin’s shoulder. She shrugs him off with a fake gag. “I kept looking at his lips and I thought we were gonna kiss, but he laughed and poked me in the ribs and called me dude.”
Robin listens to all his boy troubles and then they come up with a plan. Steve decides he’s going to come out to Eddie, just put it out there that he likes guys. In a totally platonic way and hopefully that gets the ball rolling the other way, where he tells Eddie he likes one guy in particular and hopes all his Romeo efforts don’t blow up in his face.
So he goes for it. Eddie strolls into Family Video and picks out a movie that Steve’s actually heard of for once. It’s easy for Steve to throw him a smile and invite himself over. “You know this is the closest thing to a romance movie you’ve picked? No way I’m letting you watch this alone, somebody’s gotta hold your hand through the sad ending, looks like it’s gonna be me.”
Several emotions fly across Eddie’s face, landing on overwhelmed disbelief. “I don’t get it, man. How do you not have a girlfriend? You’d be so easy to fall in love with. Hell, I feel like you've made me fall halfway in love with you already. If I was a girl, I’d date the shit out of you.”
It looks like Eddie wants to clap a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it.
Steve watches him carefully, trying to think clearly over his heart pounding in his chest because Eddie just said he loves him, kind of. This is it. “Would you still date me as a guy?”
Eddie’s nervous hands jingle with chain bracelets as they tug his hair and hide his face. “You mean, objectively? As a guy would I date another guy? I mean, could I want that? I hadn’t really considered that option until now. Uh. Shit. Wow, this is-”
“Because I would, you know,” Steve jumps to say, as earnestly as he can, needing Eddie to finally know. How could he not know? This is it. Steve didn’t come all this way just to tap out at the finish line. He goes for it. “I’d date you as a guy, Eddie. I’d date the shit out of you, too, just like you are.”
Eddie’s face is flushed now, his eyes wide and swimming with both questions and realizations. Steve snaps out of it for a second, looking around to see the store is thankfully empty, Robin’s still on her break, but this isn’t the place for this conversation.
“Wanna talk about it over the movie tonight?” He offers.
It moors Eddie, he relaxes more and Steve hopes he’s not imagining the faint hint of a smile. “Yeah, that’s— yeah, talk. I can do that.”
“Okay, it’s a date. See you then.” Steve hands over the tape, their fingers brushing and making warmth flutter all through him. He watches Eddie halfway trip out the door, running into it once and pulling on it three times before pushing it open.
Steve can’t stop grinning, thinking about later, determined to tell Eddie he’s already in love with him too.
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I wanna dance with somebody
Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22
Prompt: Sports
Rated: T
CW: some vague mentions of Eddie’s boner
Tags: No UD AU; Meet cute; Good neighbor Eddie Munson; Dancer Steve Harrington
Notes: @thefreakandthehair, @sourw0lfs, @devondespresso - SPORTS! GO, SPORTS!!!
Wanna see dancer!Steve stretch (and Eddie have a horny meltdown)? Check out the artwork done by @house-of-the-moving-image!!
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It’s still half dark and freezing outside as Eddie parks the van in front of the dancing school.
“Shit, we’re running late,” Max curses and bends down to straighten her neon-colored leg warmers for the twentieth time. “Just because you couldn’t find your stupid car keys.” 
“That all you gotta say?” Eddie huffs, but all it gets him is that bewildered brow quirk she always does when he’s being dumb. “How about Sorry for waking you at ass o’clock, Eddie? Thank you for driving me, Eddie? You’re the best neighbor in the world, Eddie?” 
She scoffs at him. “Ew, are you always that desperate for validation? Pathetic.” 
Eddie gawks after her as she opens the passenger door and gets out to retrieve her duffel from the backseat. That little gremlin! He should’ve closed the door in her face, left her standing out in the snow. 
Except, it all rang a little too close to home. The way she huddled on his porch, arms wrapped around her too-thin jacket, face set in a disappointed scowl. The way she barked at him to drive her to dance class because her mom had been home late and wouldn’t wake up. He knows she’s been taking odd jobs around the trailer park to pay for the classes, knows it's the one thing during the week she looks forward to. Also knows that her mom is too out of it to care half of the time. Knows how that feels. 
There’s no way he could’ve denied her. 
The problem is, she’s perfectly aware of that. 
“You coming?” 
She’s eyeing him expectantly through the open back door of the van. Eddie waves her off, fumbles for his cigarettes in his pocket. Realizes he forgot them. Shit. 
“‘s okay, I’ll just wait out here in the car.” 
She rolls her eyes so hard her entire head sways with the motion. “Don’t be a moron, they have heating and a lounge inside. C’mon.” 
*
The inside of the dancing school is basically just one long hall with a floor-to-ceiling mirror front at one end. There’s a counter in one corner and two mismatched sofas with a pile of old magazines opposite that. Max makes a dash for the gaggle of girls doing warm-ups on the dance floor, even though there’s no instructor in sight yet. 
“Oh hey, can I help you?” 
Eddie blinks. A guy has just materialized behind the counter - though the truth probably is that he was crouched out of sight to retrieve the boombox in his hands. He puts it on the countertop, cocks his head at Eddie, which makes a few strands of floofy chestnut hair fall in front of his wireframe glasses, and oh fuck, he’s cute! 
“Adult classes don’t start until noon, but-” 
Eddie barks a laugh and saunters closer. 
“Yeah, no. I’m just here to drop off little Red.”
He jerks his head at the dance floor. Cutie follows the movement and his face breaks into a smile so full of genuine delight, Eddie wants to cuddle him. Or maybe bite him. Maybe both. 
“Oh, Max,” says Cutie. “You her brother?” 
Eddie snorts. “Nah, just a neighbor. Her mom was … indisposed.” 
“Huh,” Cutie says. Quirks an eyebrow. Somehow manages to put an entire unspoken verdict into that little noise and gesture. “She’s real talented, y’know?” 
Eddie shuffles in his place, unsure about what to do with that information. “Um, yeah?” 
Cutie nods, eyes darting over at Max, who’s dropping into a painful-looking split in front of the mirror, and shit, when did she learn that? 
“Yeah. I think she’s got potential. Plus, she’s really come out of her shell these past few weeks. So thanks for driving her.” 
“Oh, erm …” Eddie makes, pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to hide his incoming flush. “No problem, dude, not like I had-” 
“Steve!” Max hollers, and they flinch apart. Eddie didn’t even notice how they’ve both drifted into each other’s space, Cutie’s elbows bracketed on the counter and himself just swaying ever-so-slightly closer. “You done flirting, or what? We should’ve started three minutes ago!” 
Cutie - who’s name is Steve, apparently - takes off his glasses and winks at Eddie. Fucking winks at him. It goes ridiculously well with the pretty pink blush that’s blooming high in his cheekbones. 
“Sorry,” he mutters, raising his arms over his head and bending at the hip, does a silly little stretch. “Duty calls.” 
Then, he smoothes his hair out of his forehead and steps around the counter, pressing the Play button on the boombox. 
“Okay, ladies, here we go! One song for warm-up, just move around the room however you like, feel the music.” 
Some atrocious, boppy pop number starts to blare through the room, but Eddie hardly processes it. He’s too preoccupied by the sight in front of him. 
Legs. 
And an ass. 
Legs and an ass in fucking tights. They hug Steve’s form like a second skin, bringing out every muscle, and Christ, there’s a lot to bring out! Guy looks like one of these ancient Greek marble statues - if marble statues wore fucking Tears for Fears shirts and could balance on their tippy toes and do leaps and spins in perfect sync with the music, all with flawless core tension and a seemingly effortless smile. 
Eddie thinks he may need to step out. Take a breather. Throw himself crotch-first into the nearest snowdrift, maybe. 
Instead, he takes two shaky steps backwards and collapses on top of the nearest sofa, grabs a random magazine from the pile and fans it open in his lap to hide his very unfortunate predicament. 
It’s Good Housekeeping. 
Steve spins by, catches his eye and winks again. 
Eddie turns back to the magazine. Cool, fine, he always wanted to know about the ten best apple pie recipes to delight your loved ones with. 
He does hope this magazine is sturdy, or he might just tear through it.
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Part 2
All my holiday drabbles
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pricelessemotion · 6 months
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poltergeists for sidekicks | E.M.
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summary: [2.3k] the kids drag eddie to the halloween store where you happen to work.
pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
warnings: fluff, pining, eddie being a lovestruck idiot, r wears big prescription glasses and is described as having messy hair
a/n: happy halloween! here’s something i’ve been working on for ages just in time for the end of spooky szn! xoxo
masterlist
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Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween. 
He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up. 
As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets. 
It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer. 
Now, though, Eddie Munson is decidedly too old for trick or treating. He’s resigned himself to spending the holiday like it was any other day by spending the night in his room, playing guitar, and coming up with new campaign ideas. 
Which is exactly what he was doing when three freshmen started pounding down the door of the trailer demanding entry. Within moments, they are practically on their hands and knees asking, nay begging, for the older boy to take them to get last-minute Halloween costumes.
“Aren’t you guys too old to go trick or treating?”
“This is why we need to go to the store! If we wear masks, no one will be able to tell how old we are, hence extending our years of candy collecting.” Dustin explains, matter of factly.  
Eddie sighs, leaning back into the sofa, steepling his fingers together. “What’s in it for me?”
The three boys huddle together, conspiring in a manner that is not dissimilar to the way they plan their counterstrikes during Hellfire. They nod in sync, turning around so that Lucas is standing front and center, flanked by the two other boys.  
“That one girl you like is working there.”
Eddie remains stone-faced, quipping sarcastically, “That’s very specific.”
Mike lets out an exasperated groan, threading his fingers through his hair before yanking at the ends in frustration. “Y’know, the weird one. Coke bottle glasses, messy hair, always holding a book?”
Lucas’ eyes widen. Dustin smacks Mike on the chest and the hollow sound rings out through the empty trailer. They all start talking over each other, with two of them berating the third for A. being insensitive and B. expecting a good outcome from said insensitivity. 
Eddie wants to make a comment that your hair is not messy, it’s actually more voluminous. Besides, his hair is messy and he likes to think it makes him look badass. The glasses comment was a little unfair. Sure, the frames are a similar shade to the iconic green of the bottles of Coca-Cola. But the magnification was endearing, leaning more towards doe-eyed than bug. Unfortunately, Eddie did not consider that while he was observing you, someone might’ve been observing him. 
The assurance of your presence is how Eddie ends up here, parked outside of a hardware store turned seasonal shop. He’s helping his friends. He’s supporting a local business and therefore contributing to the local economy! You being here is just a bonus.
A bell rings above them as he swings open the door, the motion setting off a scratchy pre-recorded cackle. He’s gotta hand it to whoever is running the store. They’ve gone out of their way to transform the dingy overhead fluorescents and worn-out linoleum into something that actually resembles an eerie boutique. 
“Welcome in! I’ll be right witch you!” Your voice lilts out from the depths. 
You appear out of the darkness, expertly weaving under fake cobwebs and pushing aside fanciful drapes that have no doubt been strung up precariously around the store to add to the ambiance. You’ve got a witch’s hat on, tall and black and pointy, which further explains the pun you greeted them with. 
“How can I help you?” You smile brightly, adjusting your glasses. 
The younger boys barely spare you a glance, just a chorus of we’re good! before running off to the other side of the store, where all of the costumes are located. 
You barely blink at their rudeness. Whether that’s indicative of your experience in customer service or due to your generally sunny disposition, Eddie isn’t sure. You turn your smile and magnified gaze at him, “What about you?”
Eddie startles only slightly. He begins to peek over his shoulder as if there’s somebody else in the mostly deserted store that you could be talking to. What about him?
“Oh, I don’t need anything. I just came here with–” He gestures vaguely in the direction that the boys wandered off to. “The little shits that left me in the dust.” 
You bark out a laugh, a small smile settling on your lips. “It’s sweet of you to help them out.”
Eddie only blushes in response, murmuring a quiet it’s nothing, scratching the back of his neck like he might find a switch that’ll make him remember how to talk like a normal human being.   
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”
You pick up a clipboard and a pen and start leisurely strolling down the decor aisle, making inconsequential markings on the paper. Whenever you come across gaps in the shelves you reach back into them, pulling the products to the front edge with a concentration that is quite adorable. 
He’s definitely staring by now. Feigning interest in a skull-shaped candy bowl, Eddie scrambles for something, anything to keep the conversation going. “I’m surprised you’re not busier.”
“You just missed the afternoon rush.” You say, straightening a pair of plastic tarantulas that have gone askew. “Not too many people came today, though. I guess they realized that it’s so close to the holiday that the shelves would be picked over.”
“Really?”
You shrug, “I think by October 30th, most people figure if they’re gonna dress up, they’d rather just pull together something from their closets than spend money. We’re actually busier the day after Halloween because everything gets marked down and people want cheap candy.”
“Makes sense.” He nods. “So, I take it you’re a big fan of Halloween?”
Your smile is apprehensive as if you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. Your fingers brush the brim of the witch’s hat. “What gave me away?” 
He falls into step beside you, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I just had a feeling.” Then, feeling much braver than usual, he adds, “I like your outfit.”
You look at him again, clutching the clipboard to your chest. For once, your eyes are leaning more towards bug-eyed. The black velvet dress has draped sleeves and a skirt that swishes with every step. Orange and black striped tights protect your legs from the inevitable chill that comes with October in Indiana. “You do?” 
“I do.” He insists, “It totally adds to the magical vibe. If you told me that you were an actual witch and this was just something you do to pass the time I’d one hundred percent believe you.” 
All apprehension has slipped off your face, replaced by a genuine smile that cracks open his chest. “Thanks…” You trail off.
“Eddie.” He supplies. 
“Well thank you, Eddie. I’d tell you my name but I’m guessing I don’t have to.” You say, rubbing the plastic name plate on your chest. 
Eddie does know your name, but it isn’t because of your name tag. He was far too proud to ask around for your name, and far too afraid of rejection to ask you himself. He’d been lucky enough to get a library book right after you. He’d pulled the weathered paper from the slip, seen your name at the bottom of the checkout card, traced the loopy letters with the pad of his fingers. It had definitely been more than a little pathetic. 
Eddie coughs, clearing his throat, trying to maintain any semblance of nonchalance. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?” 
Your face slowly lifts from the clipboard, twirling your pen between swift fingers polished in a deep burgundy. Directing your gaze at him, you peer through dark lashes and Eddie’s never been more thankful for the inventor of coke bottle glasses. The magnification allows him to see the spark of intrigue dancing across your pupils. 
“I was just gonna stay home. Maybe help my mom pass out candy.” The implication of the last sentence seems to hit you. You look down again, scrunching up your nose. Eddie finds it endearing how your first instinct is honesty rather than anything else. 
“Cool. That’s cool,” Eddie says in a manner that is decidedly uncool. He fiddles with his rings before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I was wondering if—” 
Suddenly, Eddie feels stupid for getting lost in your eyes and not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed how the linoleum got ever so slightly softer under the soles of worn-out boots. He would’ve seen the cloaked figure looming in the alcove, waiting for some unwitting soul to step on the pressure plate.
Unfortunately, Eddie did not see any of those things. The poltergeist, or ghost, or whatever the fuck it is swings out. He stumbles backward, releasing a shriek that is so high-pitched, that he wonders if he should start tapping into his upper range. Maybe it would add more texture to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night sets. 
Instinctively, his arms fly backward, as if to protect you. He stumbles right into you, and he’s sure that if you didn’t grab his waist from behind, you would’ve fallen right over. Unfortunately, the movement has both of you careening back into a shelf, sending bags of overpriced candy and shitty Halloween decorations tumbling to the ground in a cascade of all things creepy and corny. He quickly spins around.
“Shit, are you–”
“I’m so sorry!” 
“I should’ve warned you–”
At that moment, chests heaving and hearts racing, you both seem to realize that your hands are still grazing Eddie’s waist. You spring apart, scrambling to clean up the display, haphazardly grabbing the fallen items and placing them back in their rightful places on the shelves. Among them is your hat, another casualty of the calamity. 
“I should’ve warned you,” You say again, slightly out of breath. “That thing nearly scares me to death every other day.” 
“It’s fine. I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking. It just added to the whole spooktacular experience.” He picks up the hat from the floor, dusting it off. “I think this belongs to you.” 
You give a bashful smile, but instead of putting the accessory in your outstretched hand, he gingerly places it on top of your head. Your glasses have slid down your nose from bending over to clean up his mess, and his thumbs gently push the joints of the frames until they’re sitting in their rightful place. 
“There,” He punctuates his statement with a resolute tug on your hat, making sure it’s securely on your head. “Perfect.”
You preen at him, eyes sparkling, before you cast them down at the floor. Dustin comes running around the corner, closely followed by Mike and Lucas. All of them are carrying armfuls of miscellaneous Halloween supplies, obviously alarmed at the clamor, but not alarmed enough that they didn’t take their sweet time coming from the opposite end of the store. Eddie takes advantage of your bashfulness and distinctly shoots them a look that says get the hell out of here. Dustin’s eyes dart between the two of you before they widen and his mouth forms a small oh. He sends Eddie an exaggerated wink, walking backward in order to not interrupt the private moment, dragging his two friends along with him.
“Thanks,” You smile at him. “For protecting me. I know who to bring with me if I ever want to walk through a haunted house.” 
He gives a lopsided grin, “My pleasure.”
“Ahem.” You clear your throat, “Anyways, what are your plans for Halloween?”
This is it. This is the moment that Eddie has been waiting for since he put down his guitar and his notebook and opened the trailer door. 
“That depends.” He clasps his hands behind his back, jutting his chin up in the air. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“I get off at four.” 
“The Hawk is doing this continuous horror movie marathon. Maybe you would want to go?” Eddie’s fingers are practically vibrating with excitement. He nearly forgets the most important part. “With me? I mean— Only if you like horror movies, I just figured because I’ve seen you walking around with that Stephen King novel. NOT that I’ve been watching you or anything!”
You let out a small giggle. The fact that you’re laughing and smiling is a good sign, even if it is slightly at his expense. He decides to lean into self-deprecation, hoping it’ll seem more charming than desperate. 
“I’d say I don’t scare easily, but I think we’d both know that’s a lie by now.”
You scribble something near the bottom of the paper on the clipboard, delicately folding it and ripping it off before placing it in Eddie’s palm. 
“Well, I’ve heard horror movies are less scary if you have someone to hold your hand.”
It doesn’t even matter that a ghost animatronic essentially acted as his wingman. The note with your number on it sits heavily in his pocket, thumb tracing over looped ink. Even though it’s cold as shit, he embarrassed himself, and signs of the spooky season decorate every corner, Eddie has a smile that rivals even the best of jack-o-lanterns. 
As Eddie turns off towards the dirt path that leads to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the smile still hasn’t faded. 
For once, the streets of Hawkins seem a little less haunted. 
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likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️
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honeybleed · 3 months
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— ★ TRYNA THREEWAY WITH HIS ROOMIE // JEAN KIRSTEIN & CONNIE SPRINGER
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content & warnings: fem!reader, reader is kinda ditzy bimbo x sunshine, modern au, reader, jean and connie are all in their mid twenties, jean and connie are roommates, reader is in an established relationship with jean but connie has a crush on her, porn no plot, smut mdni (breastplay, groping, oral. f & m receiving, piv protected sex — backshots from connie lawl, cum swallowing, degradation — connie n jean both kinda mean calling reader a whore n slut but not overboard, they both compete during it) look at them 😵‍💫
author’s note: fine, i’ll do it myself cos some of yall forgot jean and connie are best friends! also this is just kinda smutty so not my best work 🚶🏽‍♂️ also dis was inspired by a tiktok edit of connie n jean to paper soldier by brent faiyaz but i lost it 😔😔
word count: 2.4k
“Oi, oi, where are you going?” Jean asked, lips swollen and smeared in lipgloss as Connie got up from the couch.
“I’m tapping out for the night bro. I promise you I got better things to do than watch you eat your girl’s face off.” Connie replied in a wry tone.
Saturday nights were always movie nights for Jean and Connie. Well, it was originally Jean, Connie and Sasha but Sasha moved in with her boyfriend.
Ever since you and Jean began to date, they were always cut short since Jean just could not for the life of him keep his hands to himself if you were in the same vicinity as him.
Connie thought you were a good match for Jean.
Jean had a stick up his ass the majority of the time, but when you swooped in the perpetual scowl etched into his features gradually faded away.
And there was no denying you were sexy.
He had pangs of guilt when he bumped into you in the kitchen Sunday mornings, Jean fast asleep and you were at the coffee machine.
It was out of his control, the way his mouth went dry and his cock twitched at your ass and hard nipples peeking through one of Jean’s baggy shirts that draped to your knees, but managed to settle just above the curve of your backside.
It was just difficult not to stare. He settled on trying to be cold and distant but when you said as a passing comment to Jean you thought Connie didn’t like you, he nearly kicked his ass.
“You make my girl upset and I’ll break your jaw.” Jean hissed.
“Jeez, I got it!” Connie grumbled, rolling his eyes as his thumbs whirled over the joysticks of the controller. He knew Jean could do that but he never took him seriously.
“I’m being serious, Con. She was real torn up about it.” Jean said sternly.
Connie was getting sick of Jean. He let out a sigh as he paused the game to turn to face his best friend.
“Hypothetically speaking, why is it such a big deal if I didn’t like her? Huh?”
Jean groaned.
“She’s a little sensitive. But that’s just how I like her alright? How’d you feel if I was being a dick to your girl?” Jean responded, scowling.
Connie pursed his lips together. Jean did have a point.
Back to current events, he eyed you as you were perched on Jean’s thigh.
“You jealous, Connie?~” You teased in a sing-song as you ruffled Jean’s sandy brown tresses.
“He got a pretty girl and don’t know how to act no more.” He chuckled to himself. “Try n keep the noise down.”
“I’d let her fuck you, y’know.” Jean said with a smirk.
Connie’s jaw went slack, disbelieving what he had just heard right now.
“…Huh?”
“Well, yeah.” Jean shrugged. “My baby thinks you’re cute, and I’d let her do anything she wants. Right, honey?” Jean said airily, as he leaned in to bite your neck, causing you to jolt and giggle in his lap.
“Jean..!” You whined, sensitive to the graze of his sharp teeth.
“You’ve gotta be messing with me right now.” Connie said, struggling to keep composure as all his prior fantasies of you hit him like a truck.
“No, Con..”
Why do you say his name like that? Connie internally cried to himself. It wasn’t helping douse the flame of his attraction to you whatsoever.
“I think you’re a cutie pie. I wanna have some fun too, I think you’d both do a good job of spoiling me, huh?” You beamed, your hand on the nape of Jean’s neck as you raked your fingers through the ends of his mullet.
Jean dug the heel of his palm into your clothed core, eliciting a moan from you.
“See how sexy she sounds, Con?” Jean grinned wolfishly as he continued to apply pressure, making you squirm and involuntarily buck your hips into his hand, seeking more. “You wanna make her moan too?”
Connie was in a state of complete and utter disbelief. Regardless, his eyes glazed over as he nodded.
“That’s my guy.” Jean said triumphantly, within an instant, he threw you into the air and caught you bridal style, laughter overtaking your body as you draped your arms around Jean’s neck.
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The dim light of the bedside table in Jean’s bedroom illuminated both of the men’s eyes.
You were just so damn gorgeous, they stood side by side as you looked at them coquettishly through your lashes.
You began to pull down the straps of your romper, sliding it off until it was around your waist.
Connie felt as if he died and gone to heaven when he gaped at your bare chest.
“Which one of you wanna start..?” You questioned, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, thrilled at the idea of both of them about to treat you.
Jean patted Connie’s back.
“Go on. Make my princess moan, hm?” He chuckled, as he began to tug his navy blue shirt over his head and tossed it across the room, revealing his lithe and toned figure.
Connie’s tongue dragged over his lips as he fully took in your appearance.
It wasn’t as if Connie was some inexperienced virgin with no play. It was just an uncanny situation.
Jean and you were so eager to do this, he felt as if there had to be some sort of catch.
“Hi handsome…” You cooed as Connie got on his knees on the carpet of the bedroom, between your legs, you gently smoothed his head and rested your hand on the nape of his neck. “Strip for me?”
He nodded, instantly discarding his shirt and shrugging out of his shorts until he was in his boxers.
“Ah, so there is a bit of muscle here?” You smiled as your palm slid down Connie’s broad chest. You raked your nails across his skin, earning a soft grunt from him.
“Not as good as mine though, huh babe?” Jean chuckled.
“Shut. Up.” Connie said through gritted teeth, then turned his attention back to you.
Testing the waters, Connie settled his hands on the bare skin of your hips, it wasn’t some sort of wet dream. This was reality, so he gripped your flesh, as his brown eyes took you in.
You were gazing at him so fondly, his heart was racing and the tips of his ears went red.
“Just do what comes naturally, okay?” You reassured him as you stroked the back of his neck again.
“…Okay, Y/N.”
Connie fluttered his eyes shut as he began to gently peck upwards along your soft stomach.
You let out a content sigh.
“Con…” You breathed out, revelling in his soft touch. It spurred him on, and Connie felt accomplished that something small already made you so reactive.
Jean grinned as he leaned in, standing next to the bed to press his lips against your neck, his hand wandering down your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipples between his fingers.
“Keep goin’ Con, she’s liking it.” Jean chuckled as you mewled and scrunched your eyes shut.
Connie nodded and latched his mouth onto the other breast, flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue as his hands still gripped your hips.
He felt more bold now, and he yanked the romper off completely.
“No panties?” Connie chuckled darkly, as he licked his lips at the sight of your pussy, slightly slimy from your arousal from both of their ministrations. “Who knew your girl was so dirty?”
“Why do you think I’m all over her?” Jean responded as he wrapped his large hand around your throat, his thumb and forefinger gripping your jaw. “You’re such a little slut, aren’t you honey?”
You nodded, mind dazed from the pleasure and dirty words.
“Mhm, yes…I’m a slut.” You mustered out.
Connie felt a bit more eased in, his apprehension and frigidness fading away.
He looked up at you with a grin, big brown eyes sparkling with excitement as he spread your legs apart, giving your inner thighs a gentle lick and kissing them.
“Please…” You whimpered.
Jean grinned against your neck.
“Please, what, baby? You want us to keep going?" He took one of your earlobes between his teeth and tugged gently. “Tell us what you want."
“Want you both…make me feel good.” You breathed out shakily.
“You heard her, Jean.” Connie grinned.
Connie was in his element. He loved going down on a girl. He was smiling from ear to ear as he was given a front view of your slick folds.
His breath fanned over your wet heat, and your eyebrows furrowed together in impatience.
“Stop teasin’!” You whined.
“Jean, is she always this impatient?” Connie snorted, amused by how desperate you were.
“It’s cute..” Jean shook his head laughing. “But yeah, my princess is pretty spoilt.”
Connie delved in between your legs, his tongue flicking over your clit eagerly, weaving expertly within the crevices of your wet flesh.
Your moans only spurred him on even more, he latched on and sucked harshly. Connie grinned deviously at the sound of your desperate pleas.
He teased you more before leaning down to lavishly kiss and lick between your thighs.
Jean still palming and kneading your breasts, sliding his large hands along your sides pinching your nipples as he worked to fulfil you.
Connie’s tongue played along your folds, circling your clit a few times, he was overjoyed with the way your body reacted to his every touch and tease.
“Don’t forget about me, baby.” Jean murmured as he tilted your head up to meet your lips hungrily, moving against you as he sucked your lower lip.
Pleasure circulated through your veins as the two men were consumed with satisfying you.
“Con…” You groaned as you felt your high approach you. “S’close.”
Connie grinned and quickened his movements, licking and sucking on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.
"Just let go, princess," He whispered against you, his tongue and lips still working away. "We've got you."
Your voice was hoarse as you sobbed, and your hips bucked violently. Body shuddering as a stream of clear liquid gushed into Connie’s mouth.
“That’s it, there we go…” Jean grinned triumphantly as he felt your body go limp in his arms.
He continued to lick and suck at your sensitive spots, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.
“Let it all out for me." Connie murmured encouragingly.
“Alright, alright. Get to the back.” Jean chuckled. “How sweet does she taste?”
Connie stood up from his knees, savoring your essence.
“Nothing like it.” He chuckled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
You and Jean shared a look, and you immediately despite being shaky from the intense orgasm, got on all fours on the mattress.
Jean crouched to cup the side of your face as he pecked your lips.
“Eyes on me, baby. Remember who you belong to.”
“I know, Jean…” You mumbled.
“Good girl..” He smiled as he kissed you once more. “You’re doin’ so well. Isn’t she, Con?”
Connie nodded, as he fumbled for a condom and rolled it over his length throbbing.
“The best.”
Connie trailed kisses down your back, stopping at the small of your back causing you to shiver.
Pulling down his boxers, his hardening cock springing free Jean stroked himself a few times.
“You ready for us, angel?” Jean whispered huskily.
“Yes, I want you both.”
“Course you do, you little whore.” Connie cackled as he smacked your ass, biting his lip at the recoil.
Your eyes met Jean’s as you fisted his girthy cock, your thumb rubbing and giving kitten licks to the sensitive skin earning a guttural groan right from his chest.
You almost paused as from behind, you felt Connie teasingly rub his latex-covered length along your slit.
“F-fuck! CONNIE!” You gasped out, pussy still sensitive from his mouth earlier.
“Shit, Con..” Jean chuckled, voice strained as he felt your breath on his slit. “You’re behind and she’s still calling your name.”
“Guess I’m her fave.” Connie smirked as he finally slid into your warm, wet walls.
“Y-you wish.” You mustered out, but you couldn’t deny Connie had surprised you.
You took Jean into your mouth and his fingers tangled in your hair.
“Shit, princess…” Jean heaved out as your tongue swirled around, making his cock slick with your saliva.
Connie began to move, his hips thrusting hard and fast, you were reduced to incoherent babbling.
“You like that, baby?" Connie growled hotly against your ear, wanting to one-up Jean. "You want more?"
“S’much more..!”
“You're so fucking sexy." He panted out between thrusts.
Jean moaned softly as you sucked him off, his fingers tangling violently in your hair.
Connie grunted as he continued to thrust into you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips.
"Fuck, angel," Jean growled through gritted teeth. "You're so damn good at this. That mouth of yours."
Jean’s fingers gripped with each bob of your head. His eyes were dark with desire and he watched you hungrily as Connie fucked you relentlessly.
“Let me finish in that mouth, honey.” Jean stuttered, feeling his high approach him.
"I'm gonna cum. Swallow it, baby. Take it all." Jean’s teeth sinking into his lower lip as he reached his climax, his warm seed spilling into your waiting mouth.
He panted and stroked your cheek gently as he came down from his orgasm, his softening length sliding out of your mouth with a wet pop.
Without hesitation, you swallowed his cum. Jean gave a greasy smile as his thumb slipped past your lips, prying your jaw open.
“All gone, huh?” Jean grinned, admiring your tongue. “Such a dirty girl.”
You screwed your eyes shut as Connie drove deeper inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.
Your fists bunched up the sheets as Connie groaned.
The both of your moans blending simultaneously reached the peak of their pleasure, Connie spilling into the latex.
He gasped as Jean pulled you towards him, the loss of warmth making you whimper as Jean pulled you close onto him.
Your arms draped over Jean’s shoulders as you felt overwhelmed in a good way.
Jean began to kiss your temple and rubbed small circles into your back.
“Feel good, princess…?” Jean smiled as he stroked your cheek. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
You nodded, then turned to Connie with a lazy grin.
“But he was my fave.” You giggled, Jean pinching your hip.
“Hey!”
author’s note: showed connie a bit more love in this since i barely write for his ass & we have enough horse cock in this blog. if u reached this far tysm for reading, reblogs & interactions r always appreciated
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princessbrunette · 13 days
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shittysoundcloudrapper!jj was persuasive and he knew it. it took barely any convincing anyway, his pretty best friend was just so whipped for him.
“look all i’m sayin’ is all this could be yours.” he fans the money out, staring you down with the ghost of a smirk as you lounge on his bed. you push your mouth into the corner, considering his offer as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt. it’s not that you didn’t trust jj, you did — you’d just never been so exposed before. his friends would hear this song, strangers would hear this song — you almost couldn’t believe he was asking to record your moans as a backing track for his beat. as you think, your smile grows — the blonde creeping towards you until he’s stood right infront of you, looming over your curled seating position.
“c’mon mama, you smell that?” he caresses your face with the wad of money, running it over your cheek and beneath your nose. “yeah. that’s that paper. hard earned benjys. you wanna help me out, don’t you? know you do.” he cooes and you’re hypnotised, nodding your head with fluttering lashes. it’s times like this he was glad to have you under his thumb.
it’s later on in the evening that things are ready to commence. perhaps when you’d agreed to help jj out, he wasn’t quite clear on the task at hand. yes, he wanted your moans for his backing track — but he didn’t want you stood infront of a mic, awkwardly recreating a scene from pornhub premiums. no, he was after the real deal. authenticity. method acting, so he called it.
“‘cus like, i’on know what’s worse. a chick faking an orgasm when you’re fucking her, or faking it just for the sake of your music. nah, i think… we’re close enough to make the real thing happen. like — for artistic expression… purposes.” he explains as he sets up his little mic, pulling a pair of headphones over his ears to check the sound. “check, check.” he drawls into the mic before nodding in approval.
“so how are we gonna…” you furrow your eyebrows, always having been on the more innocent side of the sex spectrum. before you even get to attempt to verbalise your confusion, the blonde lifts his head — responding like it was no biggie.
“oh, i can totally go down on you. ‘f’thats cool.” his tongue darts out to swipe at the corner of his mouth and you feel your eyes widen. “really you just gotta lay there n’hold the mic. easy as shit.” he shrugs, finally sitting down and looking at you expectedly as you gawk.
“wait, really?” you giggle. you’d thought about it many times, jj maybank between your legs — but now it was all too real, and you didn’t know it would be happening so out of the blue, practically a business proposition. he’s in your space again, cupping your cheek in that way that was far too familiar to just be friendly.
“look — babe, you don’t gotta worry about things being weird, alright? i’m a munch, like actually — aaaand, are you tellin’ me right now, you would say no to a little head? i mean if you don’t want me to eat it you can always y’know, DIY—” he gestures a circular rubbing motion with his middle and ring fingers, alluding to getting yourself off instead. “little dj action. just need the moans to be real. m’going all out director mode here.” somehow, the thought of touching yourself infront of jj was more humiliating — so you shake your head, sucking on your lip in thought.
“no, you can do it.” you whisper and he grins.
“yeah? atta girl. what a team player.” your best friend praises before kissing you quickly on the mouth. something he always did, platonically — but now made your heart speed up a ridiculous amount.
as you lay back shakily on the bed, you think back on the lyrics scrawled in messy handwriting in the notebook he’d leave lying around — the contents pointing to him really being about that eating pussy life. something like ‘sucking all on her clit like it’s my lifeline — she asked to return the favour, already got mine’ underlined in red biro.
it’s a blur after he hits record, kissing on your thighs making you giggle and rubbing you until there’s a wet spot through the cotton of your panties. you know he’s smiling, because you can feel the upwards curve of his mouth when he starts kissing you through the fabric. you’re pleasing him just from letting out the sweetest whimpers, challenging himself to get you to moan louder for the sake of his song.
it’s not long before he’s got you bare from the waist down, legs fanned wide open with his arms round your thighs. by this point, he has to remind himself not to talk as to not disrupt the recording — and you’re doing him proud, not even having to try to release the most breathy, beautiful sounds that he knew would be perfect on the track.
you get pouty as soon as the whole things over, deciding your best friend was a total sicko. he’d gotten all kissy on you, wet lips smushed against yours, his eyes all hazy from arousal as he makes you taste yourself, murmuring about how you did such a good job for him before wandering off shamelessly to the bathroom to jack off. you get shy, still oozing your release onto his grey-blue bed sheets thinking back on the way you begged him to talk you through it. he was focused on his producing, but he couldn’t resist on whispering “there y’go pretty mama. lemme hear it, good girl.” whilst you cream on his mean fingers.
no one seems to think it’s a big deal but you, his friends john b and pope often lazing around his place smoking weed and playing on the playstation, totally unresponsive to jj sat sprawled on the couch with his laptop on his lap, chopping and editing away on some shitty producer plugin — your moans occasionally playing around the room as he clicks away, tongue between his lips in concentration, backwards cap snug over messy blonde strands.
the boys chime in with an occasional comment. “sounds dope, man.” pope hums out brainlessly as he stares at the tv, thumbing aggressively at the console joystick, the brunette beside him quick to agree.
“no yeah, sounds good.” he agrees, eyes even darting towards where you’re curled on the couch painting your toenails, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.
when he drops the song, he promotes it everywhere — and whilst you asked for no credits for your… addition, it seems to go without saying that you’re the girl on the song, no one else even in question as wherever jj goes you’re seen hanging off his arm. his friends might not make a big deal, but you notice the stares when you go out.
rafe cameron has the audacity to corner you at the juice bar, wearing a smirk that just told you that he knew. “yeah uh, love your friends little song.” he stares you down, egging on a reaction. “been playin’ it on a loop for some reason.”
you avoid his eyes. “yeah, it’s pretty good.” you shy away, but he blocks your path.
“mm, for sure, yeah but uh, you— you know i could have sworn i recognised the… female voice in the back. got any idea who that might be or…?” his smirk only grows, licking his lips as he looms over you.
“nope…” the doe eyes give you away.
“huh, ‘cos it kinda sounds like a pretty girl i know.”
you run and tell jj, all sniffly and regretful — knowing that snitching on rafe to jj is only going to cause problems. his reaction is less defensive and aggressive than you imagined, instead leading you through to his bedroom by the waist.
“look, bae — people are gonna talk, alright? doesn’t mean shit. sure as hell don’t care about what rafe thinks.” he sits you down, standing above you as he curls a hand under your chin affectionately. “but hey, if the money wasn’t enough— think i can make it worth your while. y’wanna lay down for me, sweets? no mic this time. jus’ me and that pretty pussy.”
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cupcakeinat0r · 1 month
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Thinkin abt DadBod!Miguel… once again…
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You were the lucky girl that pulled Miguel n had him wrapped around your lil finger.
As much as he didn’t like to show it publicly, the man was whipped. By the means of your affectionate love, Miguel actually began to take better care of himself, resulting in happy boyfriend weight gain.
As time went on, you’d noticed those changes: Thicker thighs, fatter ass, pecs are perkier, and a soft pouch that you’d feel up when you removed his shirt during hot, open-mouthed make-out sessions.
Miguel was a little surprised to find that you loved it, and since then, has taken advantage of this information.
Now, he proudly walks around shirtless, in nothing but grey sweatpants or even boxers sometimes. He thought he was slick by acting coy, but you knew that he knew that you get wet just by the sight of his brawny, hairy muscles, or that muffin top he had going on… and that happy trail…
Then he’d give you that smirk when he caught you staring, making fun of you when he did. And when he sees that you’re a blushing mess, he attacks you with kisses, you swatting him away but it’s no use; he’s already caged you under him on the couch, the both of you breaking into a fit of giggles.
Today, it’s early in the morning. He didn’t have to be at the society until a little later, so you made the best use of the rare time you had together and made him some breakfast. After he was done eating, the two of you cuddled on the couch for the remainder of his free time.
He was sprawled out on the couch (almost too small for him) with your body on top of his. Your head lays on his chest, the hair there slightly tickling your skin. His strong hands rub your back oh so gently, making you drift away. Miguel occasionally kisses the top of your head as he himself doze off as well. Just when the two of you are about to fall asleep, his watch on the coffee table goes off.
“mierda—“ he groans, immediately going to snooze the loud, annoying alarm. You lift your head with a ‘mph’, your body grieving the loss of a peaceful moment between the both to you. “Already?” You look up at him with the saddest puppy dog eyes, ones that break his heart.
“I know, mama, I know, I’m sorry, but y’know I have to go.” He tuts. Like as if you were made of porcelain, he gently pries you off of him, but you refuse. “Just call in, baaaabe.”
Miguel feels you grab onto him tighter, and he lays back on his elbows in regret, “I’ll be back as soon as I can, mamita. I gotta go, mama, c’mon.”
“But baaaaabyyyyy.” You pout.
“Beba, tu sabes que yo quiero quedarme contigo, pero I simply can’t.” He really did hate having to say bye to you. He used to never wanna leave the lab, but now he counts down to the seconds until he gets to come home to your arms.
“Just a few more minutes?” You lift your head from his chest again, giving him those eyes that could get you anything.
“Beba, por favor-“ he knits his brows. He was cracking.
“Pleeeeeeaaasse?” You pout your bottom lip, “We haven’t had a day like this in forever, babe. Besides, you work so hard already…”
You place and subtly push your hands on his chest, and to your surprise, he lays back on the couch, wanting to hear what else you have to say, and maybe see what mischievous plan you had this time.
He could spare a minute or two, it won’t hurt… right?
“You deserve a day off, no?” Your voice becomes softer, more sensual as you peel yourself from his body and straddle not on his waist, but his stomach. Miguel’s consciousness is slipping.
Miguel’s hands instinctively go to rest on your hips, which have started to vaguely grind on his belly.
You were clever. By teasing Miguel and grinding against his stomach, merely inches from his fat cock, you knew you’d have him crumble under you in no time. “Well… do you?” You ask again, raising your eyebrow. You know it was working.
His eyes are now laser focused on the triangle of your panties, now marked with a wet spot, rubbing against his mid section. In his mind, he’s practically fighting for his life between going to work or letting you keep doing what you’re doing and so far… what his eyes are stuck on is winning.
“fuck, mama… you’re makin’ it real difficult, you know that?” His voice gravels at the sight in front of him. He doesn’t look up, too distracted by your slow thrusts against his soft belly. He hissed as he can feel his own cock rise in his grey sweats, precum bleeding through, no doubt.
“Baby, just stay, just for today… please?” Your breathy tone goes straight to his aching dick, pushing him over the edge from staying or going.
Hungry, Miguel licks his lips just as he takes one of his hands, hooking his pointer finger on one side of the triangle of your panties, pulling it aside so that nothing separated your wet heat and his fluffy stomach. He let out a low sigh and a few curses, watching as you painted his belly with your juices. He’s not even in you, but he could cum just from this.
“Aw fuck… what am I gonna do with you?“ he looks up at you, almost annoyed that this was working on him, but he couldn’t help it. He was pussy whipped. Feeling like you’ve won, you lazily smiled, already getting close to your climax as you continued grinding on his soft stomach.
“Lyla… fuck… mute my watch. I’m takin’ the day off.”
A/n: This one right here…. This ask did it for me. Been replaying this one in my head for days now hnnnghh I need him so bad, it actually makes my stomach hurt and my head dizzy 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 Thank you nonnie <3
Hope y’all liked it <3
Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!
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marvellous1917 · 8 months
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Icarus Falling Far.
(Part 3)
Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader
Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.
Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.
Word count: 3.6k ish
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A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘
(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)
Part 2 ⬇️:
———————
Bold is readers thoughts
Italics is Bucky's thoughts
This starts in Bucky’s POV.
———————
His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}
But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.
A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.
“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.
The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.
“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.
Today was a stressful fucking day.
It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.
“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.
“Yeah.”
“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.
“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.
I hate that fuckin smile.
He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.
“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.
“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.
“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.
“Alright.”
“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.
I hate it when you do that.
Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”
“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”
“Anybody looking for him?”
“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”
“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.
Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.
“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.
“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”
“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”
“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.
“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”
“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.
“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.
“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?
“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.
“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.
“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.
That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.
“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.
Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.
“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“
“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.
“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.
“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”
“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.
Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.
“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”
“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.
“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.
“…of?”
“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.
Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.
“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.
He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.
Fuck. Shit.
The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.
“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.
“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.
The one I’m obsessed with.
When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.
“Shit.” He says under his breath.
“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.
“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.
Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.
No. No no fuck. Not her.
The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.
Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.
“…this was taken this morning.”
“..yeah.”
fuck.
———————
Fuck Bucky Barnes.
The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.
Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.
Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.
You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.
“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.
“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.
“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.
“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.
He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.
“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.
“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.
“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.
He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.
“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.
God-fucking-dammit Frank.
Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.
“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.
“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”
“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.
Shit, how does he know?
“-what?”
“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.
“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.
“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”
Ahh fuck.
“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.
“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.
“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.
“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.
“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.
“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.
“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.
“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“
“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.
You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.
“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.
Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.
“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.
“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.
“Is that him?” Curtis asks.
“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.
He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.
Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.
“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.
“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.
“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”
His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.
“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.
Oh my god.
“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.
He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”
“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.
“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.
Why does he have to be so sweet.
You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.
“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.
His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.
You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.
“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.
-(Bucky’s P.O.V)
Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.
The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.
The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.
The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.
“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.
“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.
“Frank please-”
“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”
“Billy-”
“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.
“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.
You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.
The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.
“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.
“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.
“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.
The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.
“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.
The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.
“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.
The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.
“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.
“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.
Then how the fuck do they know.
“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”
“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.
He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.
“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.
“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.
It was them. But that means…
“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.
Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.
“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.
“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.
Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.
————
Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.
Lemme know what u think 😘
Tagged :
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aothotties · 3 months
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Sneaky Link w/ JJK
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WARNINGS: MDNI, Public sex, shower sex, daddy kink, creampie
Toji
In all honesty neither one of you meant for this to happen. He’s your trainer at the gym…or at least he was.
It started off super innocent at first, then it turned into sly comments, small touches here and there, y’know the fluffy stuff, but as we all know nothing about Toji Fushiguro is vanilla, let alone fluffy.
Before you knew it a simple training session would almost always turn into a fucking session.
He just cant help himself, the way your ass looks in your shorts every time you squat drives him insane, I mean what is he supposed to do? How do you expect him to not take you then and there.
“T-toji I can’t!” You sob into his chest and your toes curl as another orgasm builds up.
“Awe really? We barely did our workout today, gotta make up for it somehow.” He smirks and holds your legs open wider for him.
You’re not sure how, but by the grace of god he’s managed to hold you up in the air like this for the past 15 minutes.
Your thighs begin to weaken in his hold and he smirks at the way you start shaking.
“Are you close angel?” He stops moving you on his dick and watches as you squirm around.
“Y-yes! P-please let me cum.” You wrap your tired arms around his neck and pull him close to you.
His dick can’t help but twitch at how fucked out and exhausted you look. The hair tie that was holding your puff back popped off long ago and your poor glasses were nowhere to be found.
“You’re so fucking sexy sweet girl.” He groans as you tighten around him and he bounces you up and down on his dick again.
He presses your back against the shower wall and slams a hand over your mouth to contain your moans.
“Is daddy making you feel good? You gonna come soon?” His hand is still pressed against your lips, but you’re too fucked out to respond anyway.
Your eyesight goes completely white as your orgasm releases onto him and the shower floor.
“There we go mama! You’re such a good girl.” He moves the hand that was covering your mouth and grabs your jaw to slam his lips against yours.
His hips slam continue to slam against your own, his big balls begin to tense up as his orgasm approaches.
“F-fill m-me up please!” You bite down on his bottom lip and his hips stutter at the request.
He slams his dick into your cunt one last time before he fills you to the brim with his cum. His dick continuously twitches and the large vein on the underside of it pulses as he comes down from his high.
“I think the gym is definitely closed now.” You mumble into his shoulder and he nods his head.
“I know it is, I made sure of it.”
Ari
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angelcent · 20 days
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          𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄
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starring. satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro
contains. established relationships, suggestive smut, sexting, guided masturbation, sex toys, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting mentions
note. re-upload + based on an ask: what kind of foreplay do you think the jjk men are into?
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𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
sexting. photos or text alone, satoru enjoys indulging himself in his favorite girl throughout the day regardless of where he is or who’s around. not only is he ever tired of anything that has to do with you, he’s also a menace who enjoys doing filthy things when he’s meant to act like a proper member of society.
he’ll open dirty photos you’ve sent while in the backseat as ijichi drives, whistling low under his breath. or taking a trip to the bathroom before a meeting—headphones already plugged in to watch a video you sent him, biting back a groan as his blue eyes remain fixed on the vision you are as you desperately ride your lavender dildo. satoru isn't a selfish man; he'll reply with a picture of him pulling down on his boxer briefs as the hem of his shirt is caught between his teeth—giving you a glimpse of his toned abs and line of white hair below his navel; trailing down to a groomed patch of curls at the base of what’s covered with elastic and Calvin Klein. he’s hard and tenting the fabric, and he wants to make sure that you know that.
my naughty girl, he thinks. like he’s not the one who starts it.
then, at that very meeting he’s lazily tapping at his phone with a thumb as he tells you what he wishes he could do to you in that very room, uncaring that it’s brazen and disrespectful to do so. satoru tells you how slowly he’ll work your sweet pussy open for himself until everyone in the room can hear the filthy sounds of your wet cunt. you were moaning and whining so loud for him in your video as you fucked yourself, and while he loves the sounds of his name on your tongue, he’d have to gag you in this room. you’ve gotta be proper and all that, y’know?
but you love that, don’t you? being made out to be a girl who’s so modest and responsible yet is seduced by a powerful man like him; as if it’s satoru who brings it out of you. like it’s all his doing that your tight cunt drools and throbs for him at odd hours of the day. like you just can’t control thinking about his dick pounding into you until you’re undressing in your room and pulling out your toy in the middle of the day.
you love being corrupted by the strongest. and he loves having you as his dirty little secret slut tucked away in his pocket. he almost can't wait to make you his wife.
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𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
dirty talk. suguru's naturally soft and smooth voice has an effect on you at all times during the day—in the early morning when it's still roughened with sleep while you two talk amongst the soft sheets and slowly rise with the sun. or how it sounds deeper over the phone when he calls you on your lunch breaks. or at night when he greets you home and you feel the rumble of his voice soothing you as he hugs you at the doorway, tucking you under his chin with a kiss to the crown of your head.
but when he’s got you pressed against the nearest surface, large hands hot over your skin, his voice becomes low and dark with need as he tells you just how he wants you. his voice washes over you like midnight waves as your thighs are quivering and spread wide for him. one of his favorite ways to arouse you is guiding you to masturbate in front of him until you’re left flushed and desperate to come. he tells you to spread your cunt for him with your fingers, tease you about needy your pussy looks drooling for him, to show him how bad you want his cock to stretch and split you open—how badly you need him to fill you up until you’re leaking his hot come down your bruised thighs. you nod along eagerly, half listening to him, half going along with whatever he says so he can give you what you want.
suguru is all charming smiles and mild manners to the world—but he can be downright cruel when it comes to teasing you. he guides your fingers into your tight hole, telling you how he can imagine your hot walls tightening over your fingers and how he loves the way your greedy cunt sucks him in. but it’s not enough, is it? your delicate fingers can’t compare to the thick of his throbbing cock pounding into you—you can’t fuck yourself the way he does. it just isn’t the same. he coos into the shell of your ear as tears gather in your sweet eyes. suguru’s pretty voice lowers into a sinister whisper.
poor thing. look at you, crying for me to fuck you. what a slut. why don’t you beg me? sing for me, my sweet canary.
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𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
toys, edging. you’re the light of kento's life, the morning sun that promises better days ahead. you give him hope after several years of meandering through life. that said, you’re also the one to make him question his own principles. he’s a disciplined and unshakable man who can’t be swayed by the words or opinions of others, except for you. toys are a common occurrence for you during sex—he’s patient and calm as he presses the small vibrator over your twitching clit, eating up your whimpering moans and breathy gasps like nectar. he’s not done until his hands and wrist are wet and messy with your juices and your eyes are rolled to the back of your head as you come down from your high. kento likes to make you come at least once before he even unbuckles his own belt. in the privacy of your bedroom, he enjoys watching you unravel before his eyes alone.
you're his very own angel laying in black silk.
but you’ve got an exhibitionist streak that he finds inappropriate and in need of correction. so for every time you try to seduce him in public, he punishes you in a similar fashion the next morning before work. you sit on the edge of the bed as he kneels before you, soft legs over his shoulders while he works the small toy into you. as bratty as you can be, you’re quick to pout and whine at him for being so mean. kento ignores this, eyeing how wet your cunt is before the day has truly even began. he rubs your thighs soothingly as he explains how the day will go. how he’ll control your pleasure as he sees fit and how he expects you to continue acting properly. you’ll be at work, he doesn’t want anyone else to know just how insatiable and slutty you can be. 
he sits at his desk in his downtime with the app open on his phone, straight faced as always as he alternates the speed and intensity of the vibrations throughout the day. at the end of the day, he comes home and quietly loosens his tie as he watches you writhing on the couch. there’s a few buttons undone from your blouse and you’re rubbing your thighs together while trying to focus on the tv, but you’re not touching yourself. you’ve learned your lesson.
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𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
oral sex. a classic, and he’s fucking good at it. also, he loves eating pussy (when it’s someone he cares about). laying you back against a surface, manhandling you and guiding you to sit your pretty ass against his face where you belong, or flipped around as you work his cock with your small mouth. anyway he can have you, he’s buried in your sweet cunt. toji is a man with many vices, and you’re at the top of them all. 
he’s nasty about eating you out. alternating between his tongue and fingers, quick or painstakingly slow, chasing that unbelievable high of having you squirt all over his thick forearm and making a mess of him. it’s with him that you discover even being able to squirt, and it confused him to see you tearing up with shame as you shakily apologized to him after the first time. why? it’s the sexiest thing he’d ever seen and he coaxes confidence out of you until you realize just how natural it is and how nothing about you will ever deter him. slow and heady like haze, toji shows you just how much pleasure you can attain merely from his mouth. 
toji makes out with your pussy, grunting into the heat of you as he works his tongue up and over your puffy clit. the squelching of your juices fills the room and only makes him strain against his pants. the taste and smell of you alone can set him off—sometimes inhaling deeply before he even begins and relishing in the way it makes you squirm. but don’t get bratty with him; try and tell him to hurry up and you’ll meet the harsh slap of his palm over your sensitive pussy. he’ll give you a few more slaps for good measure too. he doesn’t fuck with brats. (he does, he just loves putting brats in their place).
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kazmyass · 6 months
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hey! i just came over from tiktok, could you possibly do a gally x reader where he tries to act tough around all of the guys but (y/n) starts teasing about how sweet he actually is and he has to try and defend himself but gets all flustered over it, but can’t get mad at (y/n) cause he’s got that fat crush on her? (fem pronouns possibly please?)
Not So Tough
Pairing: Gally x fem!reader
Description: Gally has a hard exterior, but secretly melts when y/n is around.
Warnings: smooching, glade slang, idk just a lot of fluff, gally being a bit of a jerk
Words: 651
Prompt: Grumpy x Sunshine Trope
A/N: It lowkey ends kinda abruptly but OH WELL HERE YA GO
“Gally, would you please stop yelling at the rest of the builders and actually start building?” Newt called from the gardens.
“No can do, I gotta make sure everyone stays in line, that’s why you put me in charge of the builders, remember?” Gally called back, yelping soon after when one of the newer gladers dropped a piece of wood on his head. “You shank! Look what you’ve done! Dropping klunk all over the place, you should be sent to the slammer!”
“Gally, is that really any way to talk to the new guy?” Y/n jogged up to Gally from the med-jack hut where she was just supervising Clint and Jeff. Y/n was somewhat of a floater when it came to jobs. When they were testing what jobs she was good at, she was nearly good at every single one. Well, except for the slicers. Poor Winston nearly scared the girl half to death when he first came out with a machete.
“I uh- Well he dripped- I mean dropped that shucking piece of wood on me an-” Gally stammered.
“Gally, c’mon give the guy a break, he’s only been here a week,” Y/n said with a soft smile.
“Look, I’m just trying to do my job, gotta make sure everything gets done, right?” Gally said, seeming to regain his composure.
“And it will get done, you can just be a little nicer about it through,” Y/n said, placing a hand on Gally’s arm and running her fingers down his bicep.
Gally blushed. Y/n was playing him like a fiddle and she knew damn well what she was doing.
“I’ll see you at supper?” Y/n said.
“You know you’re the only one that calls it that, right? It’s dinner,” Gally snorted.
“Oh shut it, you know you love me,” Y/n said before turning over her shoulder and walking away, not before giving Gally one last smile. Gally stood there for a moment, not sure what to do with himself.
“Oi, Gally, what were you saying about making sure things get done?” Newt called, snickering to Alby.
“Oh slim it,” Gally growled. “No- you can’t hammer that in, there’s not a screw to hold it together!” He turned his attention to the Greenie.
___
“Hey big guy, not interested in tackling anyone to the ground tonight?” Y/n’s voice came from above Gally.
“No, not tonight, gonna try to go to sleep early,” Gally said, getting up and trying his best to avoid y/n. But before he could leave, y/n grabbed his wrist.
“Wait- did today really bother you?” She asked, furrowing her brow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gally broke away from her grip and tried to escape again, but she was too quick for him. She grabbed his arm again.
“You know what I’m talking about. I didn’t think it would bother you, I thought you would actually like it, y’know considering I was flirting with you.” Gally’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“Oh my god,” Y/n laughed. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
“Kinda hard to pay attention to that when things need to get done,” Gally cleared his throat, trying his hardest to hide the smile that was forming on his face.
“Oh don’t act like you weren’t blushing the whole time you- oh my god you’re even blushing right now!” She laughed.
“Shh, no I’m not,” Gally smiled back at her, the blush returning to his cheeks.
“You are! Gally’s blushing! Gally’s blu-” Y/n called when she was cut off.
Gally’s lips crashed into hers as his hand moved to her cheeks. Y/n closed her eyes and sunk into the kiss, bringing her arms around his neck. When Gally pulled away first, y/n smiled.
“What was that for?” She breathed.
“To shut you up,” Gally smiled. He looked to her lips and back to her eyes. “And also because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
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